Dave Darrin's Second Year at Annapolis eBook

Unable to see for himself, the officer in the launch
depended wholly on those masthead signals. So
the launch steamed a somewhat zig-zag course over
the waves. Yet, at last, it bore down straight
upon the midshipmen.

Darrin, Dalzell and Hallam now came very near to closing
their eyes, to lessen the suspense.

A short time more and all three were dragged in over
the sides of the launch.

“Get those life buoys in, if you can,”
begged Dave, as he sank in the bottom of the launch.
“They are United States property entrusted to
our care.”

From officer and seamen alike a laugh went up at this
request, but the life buoys were caught with a boathook
and drawn aboard.

What rousing cheers greeted the returning launch,
from the decks of the liner, “Princess Irene”!
When the three midshipmen reached deck and it was
learned that they were midshipmen of the United States
Navy, the cheering and interest were redoubled.

But the captain and the ship’s doctor cut short
any attempt at lionizing by rushing the midshipmen
to a stateroom containing three berths. Here,
under the doctor’s orders, the trio were stripped
and rubbed down. Then they were rolled into blankets,
and hot coffee brought to them in their berths, while
their wet clothing was sent below to one of the furnace
rooms for hurried drying.

As soon as the medical man had examined them, the
steamship’s captain began to question them.

“Headed for the Azores, eh?” demanded
the ship’s master. “We ought to be
able to sight your squadron before long.”

He hastened out, to give orders to the deck officer.

By the time that the young midshipmen had been satisfactorily
warmed, and their clothing had been dried, the ship’s
surgeon consented to their dressing. After this
they were led to a private cabin where a satisfying
meal was served them.

“Oh, I don’t know,” murmured Dan,
leaning back, with a contented sigh, after the meal
was over; “there are worse things than what happened
to us to-day!”

The greater speed of the liner enabled her to sight
the battleship squadron something more than two hours
afterward. Then the nearest vessel of the fleet
was steered for directly.

The deck officers of the liner sent their heavy overcoats
for the use of the midshipmen, who, enveloped in these
roomy garments, went out on deck to watch the pursuit
of their own comrades.

Within another hour it was possible to signal, and
from the “Princess Irene’s” masthead
the signal flags were broken out.

“Now, watch for excitement on board your own
craft,” smiled the liner’s commander,
an Englishman.

As soon as the liner’s signal had been read
by the vessels of the squadron a wild display of signal
bunting swiftly broke out.

“Heaven be thanked!” read one set of signal
flags.

“We have officially buried the young men, but
ask them to go on living,” read another.